


I Want to Write You a Song

by phdmama



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: American AU, Established Relationship, I Want To Write You A Song, Larry as parents, M/M, Mention of an uncomfortable dating situation but nothing bad happens., No Smut, OFC (not a romantic interest!), Reverse Chronology, Snippets and Vignettes, Vermont, i don't think it's angsty, trombones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 19:14:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11904408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phdmama/pseuds/phdmama
Summary: It's amazing how long the nights can last, and how quickly the years pass. Some memorable moments from Harry and Louis' life together, with their favorite person in the world.





	I Want to Write You a Song

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction, meant only to entertain. Please don’t break the 4th wall or post anywhere else! 
> 
> This was written for the [Made in the A.M. Fic Challenge](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/mitam). HUGE thank you to [Jacky](https://dimpled-halo.tumblr.com/) for all of her work in creating and managing this challenge!
> 
> Huge huge thanks to my love, [lululawrence](http://lululawrence.tumblr.com/) for the beta!!
> 
> As always, the words, as well as the errors, are mine.

_I want to write you a song_  
_One as beautiful as you are sweet_  
_With just a hint of pain_  
_For the feeling that I get when you are gone_ _  
I want to write you a song_

Harry slams the rear door of the minivan, or tries. It’s stuffed so full that he has to push on it firmly to get it to latch, and as he does so, he ignores the pang. It’s here, it’s really here, the day they’ve been working towards for a year now. Well, for eighteen years, really. The day they’ve been anticipating, and dreading.

Darcy comes out onto the front porch, a bit red-eyed and teary, and Harry knows that she’s been saying goodbye to Percy and Alistair, the cats.

“They’re gonna miss you,” he says, and knows she hears what he’s not saying. She blinks at him, and Harry takes a moment to look at her, really look at her. She’s got his fly-away curls, and thanks to their blue-eyed donor, she’d ended up with deep azure eyes, shot with gold. She may have Harry’s DNA, but the grin on her face is all Louis, and as Harry steps onto the porch to pull her into a hug, his heart aches. His baby girl is going to college.

“You have to promise that you’ll let me Facetime them, okay?” Darcy says solemnly, and Harry nods, wrapping his arms around her.

He’s quiet during the three and a half hour drive from their small Vermont town down to Boston. There’s not a lot of traffic and they make good time. He still can’t quite believe it’s here; he’s going to be leaving his baby girl in the Big City. He’s not ready. He’s never going to be ready. He glances across the console to Louis, who’s driving as if he knows exactly where they’re going, and Harry hates that just a little bit. Wants to tell him to slow down, turn the car around, turn back the clock because it’s too soon. It was always going to be too soon. Then he looks around and Darcy is vibrating in the back seat, a grin stretching her cheeks and he sighs, turning back around to look at the highway flying by next to him. She’s ready. She is. It’s just Harry who isn’t.

The traffic gets heavier the closer they get to Boston College, and Harry takes deep breaths, feeling thankful for every delay that pushes him back from leaving his baby to start the rest of her life. Darcy is chattering away, she’s been texting with her roommate who is already getting settled in, and she’s clearly dying to get there and get unloaded.

They make it through the move-in with only two smashed fingers, one semi-loss of temper (Louis, when Harry won’t stop hovering as Louis is hauling the mini fridge up two flights of stairs), and one burst of adrenaline tears from Darcy when she thinks maybe she forgot to bring her laptop (she didn’t, Harry made sure of it). And then, it’s time. They’ve talked it through, and decided the best thing they can do when it’s time is just...go, but now that the moment is here, Harry wants to hold on just one moment more. They stand together in the middle of Darcy’s tiny dorm room, arms wrapped around each other. Darcy’s roommate, Janelle, is seeing her parents off, so it’s just them in the room.

Harry can feel his eyes filling and squeezes Darcy tighter, who gives a small squawk. “Papa. Can’t breathe.”

Harry feels Louis’ hand on the small of his back, rubbing gently, and knows he’s doing the same to their daughter. It’s what he always done.

Then Louis says softly to Harry, “Time to let go, Papa. We should hit the road.”

Harry nods, and turns to Darcy. “Call me tomorrow? I’ll text you when we get home. I just, oh God, baby. I love you so much and this is going to be amazing, even though I’m going to miss you so much.” Darcy’s face crumples and she tumbles into his embrace with a sob.

“I love you too, Papa.” She hugs him hard, then turns to Louis. “I love you, Daddy, so much, and I’ll make you proud.”

Louis smiles, that same smile he’s been giving her since the day she was born, and says only, “You already have, baby. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Harry cries until the New Hampshire border, Louis’ hand heavy on his thigh as he navigates the late afternoon traffic. They’ve decided they’ll stop in Hanover for dinner, so Harry still has some time to get himself together. He presses his hot cheek against the cool glass of the window and takes a long, shuddering breath.

Louis glances over at him as he switches lanes to get around a large truck, and Harry makes eye contact with the horse staring out from the trailer as they pass. “You okay, love?”

Harry nods. “I didn’t think it was going to hit me quite this hard.” Louis snorts softly and Harry frowns, even as he snickers. “No, for real, I really didn’t. I mean, she’s been so busy and independent this past year already. And I know she’s ready. I know,” his voice thickens as he tries to convey what he’s feeling. “I know we did a good job, Louis.”

“We did,” Louis murmurs, his grip on Harry’s leg tightening. “She’s an amazing kid. Amazing young woman. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, H. She’ll be okay, and she knows she can always call us, whenever she needs to.”

“And I’m so excited for her, you know? All those firsts. Getting to learn so many new things, make new friends, new experiences. But, I’m just going to _miss_ her. It sucks, Lou, to raise such an incredible person and now she has to just go and leave, go live her life.”

Louis’ eyes crinkle, the lines around them far more prominent than they were the day they brought Darcy home, though his eyes are the same deep blue that Harry had fallen in love with, so many years ago. “I know exactly what you mean, baby.”

They have a wonderful dinner at some little bistro on Main Street, and it suddenly hits Harry: this is their life now, at least until winter break. They can go out to dinner whenever they want and it’ll be just the two of them. They don’t have to stay up worrying about Darcy, she’s on her own now (not that they’ll ever stop worrying, a parent’s worry is never done). And then, as they head back to the car, Louis stops, and presses a kiss to Harry’s mouth.

“I know it’s tough, baby, but it’s good too, isn’t it?”

Harry nods. “It is. And I know we’re not done. But it’s big, isn’t it? Going home without her.” Then he grins at Louis, and while the crinkles around his eyes are more pronounced than they were at the beginning of this journey, and his chestnut curls are more grey than brown these days, his smile is the same, joyful and open as he looks at Louis.

“No one else,” he says softly, and Louis grins back at him.

“Same. No one else I’d rather do this with.”

And then Harry’s phone chimes, and when he opens it up, there’s a picture of Darcy. She’s cheek to cheek with Janelle, two other girls squished in on either side of them, with the note, “It’s going to be okay, Papa. I love you!”

Harry grins, shows the picture to Louis and says, “It’s going to be okay.”

_I want to lend you my coat_  
_One that's as soft as your cheek_  
_So when the world is cold_  
_You'll have a hiding place you can go_ _  
I want to lend you my coat_

The soft buzzing of his phone wakes Louis from a dream in which he and Harry are canoeing through a meadow that stretches out through their New York City studio apartment, a place they haven’t lived in twenty years. He blinks and glances at the clock. It’s 11:47, so he’s been asleep just over an hour. The phone buzzes again, reminding him of why he’s awoken, and he grabs it, frowns, and then answers.

“Baby, you okay?”

There’s a sniff on the other end, and Louis gets out of bed, pats Harry who gives an incoherent mumble and rolls over, and heads out into the living room which is dimly lit, waiting for Darcy to get home.

“Sweetheart, where are you? What’s going on?”

The sniffle turns into a full-out wail and then Darcy says, “William dumped me.”

Louis can’t help himself, he gives a quick victorious fist bump, as he’s never liked this kid. William is an arrogant show-off, in Louis’ humble opinion, who’s treated Darcy more like a conquest than a girlfriend, and Harry has had to talk him down more than once over the past three months of their relationship. She’s been enamored with him for ages, though, and you can’t talk a sixteen-year-old girl out of a crush, Louis has finally learned.

“You need me to come and get you, baby? Where are you?”

“Um,” Darcy says, and Louis’ heart sinks, “Don’t be mad, okay?”

Louis frowns, knowing that what he’s about to hear is going to clearly piss him off, big time.

“We, um, we had a fight and he, shit, Daddy.” Her voice breaks. “He made me get out of the car and left me here by the side of the road.”

What? _What?_ Louis feels an actual adrenaline rush as he pulls on his plaid wool coat over his pajamas, shoves his feet into his boots, and grabs his car keys. “Where are you, sweetheart? I’m on my way. Are you safe?”

“Yeah, I’m walking to the Sunoco.”

Louis tamps down the rage he feels at the idea of his beautiful daughter, walking along Route 7, late at night, to get to the gas station. He throws himself into the van, and quickly backs up the driveway. “I’m on my way, baby, I’ll be there in a few. You want me to stay on the line?”

He hears Darcy sniff. “Okay, Daddy. No, you don’t have to, I’ll be okay. I’m walking up to the station now. Oh no, Daddy, it’s closed.” He can hear something close to panic in her voice, and it breaks his heart.

“Baby, listen. You’re okay, it’s safe. Okay?” He speeds up a bit, pushing it.

“Daddy?” Darcy's voice is uncharacteristically meek, and Louis frowns. He’ll deal with William later. He knows the boy’s parents a bit, and he knows they raised him to be better than this. The advantage of a small town, he thinks, everyone knows everyone. The lack of privacy can come in handy.

“What, Darce?”

“You were right, about William. He wasn’t nice.”

Louis’ heart sinks again. His poor baby, her first real heartbreak. “I know, baby. I’m sorry.”

“Okay, Daddy. You should hang up and drive, okay? I’m just going to sit on the steps and wait for you.” Darcy’s voice is firm, and Louis has to laugh at his strong-willed daughter.

“Okay, baby. I’ll see you in ten.” They hang up, and Louis focuses on getting to his girl safely, and not getting pulled over for running any red lights.

When he pulls into the gas station, he notes that the lights are dim and Darcy is sitting on the steps, looking small and sad.

He hops out of the car and she rises as he walks towards her. “Your chariot awaits, my lady.” He holds out his arms and Darcy flings herself into them, holding on tight as she sobs. “Baby, you’re freezing.” He quickly pulls off his coat and drapes it around her shoulders as she clings to him, shuddering. “C’mon, sweetheart, let’s get you in the car.”

She finally unwraps her arms and pushes them into the sleeves, then snorts as Louis carefully zips the coat up. He’s not a big guy, but she’s tiny and the coat swims on her. He presses a kiss to her forehead, and then steers her back to the car.

She slips into the passenger seat and Louis carefully closes the door after her. As he walks around to the driver’s side, he takes a deep breath, willing down the rage that is threatening to explode. He slides in behind the wheel, and starts the car as Darcy fastens her seatbelt.

“So,” he says finally, not looking at her as he pulls back out onto the road. “What, exactly, happened tonight?”

Darcy sighs and it strikes Louis that his baby isn’t a baby anymore. She’s well on her way to becoming an adult, with all the joys and heartbreak that condition brings with it. His eyes fill again, and he shakes his head.

“We had a fight, Daddy, and he got, well, really mean.” Her voice is small and Louis _hates_ this. Hates that any boy could take some of the shine off of his girl. Knows that this is part of growing up, but hates it anyway.

“Mean how? What was the fight about?”

Darcy sighs again and says, “You’re going to be really mad, I know.”

Louis snickers before he can help himself, “You know me, baby, I blow up and then get it over with. The one you’re gonna have to worry about is your papa.”

Darcy snickers back, sounding more like herself and says, “Why do you think I called _you_?” She pauses, and tips her head back against the headrest, as if suddenly too tired to support it on her own. “Well, we had a fight because he wanted to have sex, and I didn’t. You told me that I should wait until I really feel like I’m ready, and I don’t...I don’t think I am, not yet. At least not with him.”

Louis’ heart swells with pride even as he panics, because this feels like one of Those Moments in parenting, a moment where you have to be careful how you handle whatever mess it is your child has brought to you, so that you don’t screw it, or worse, them, up. It’s heavy, is all. For a moment, he wishes Harry were there, because Harry’s always been better at this part of parenting. _Thank God for Harry,_ he thinks. _There’s no one else I could do this with._

All he says, carefully, is, “And what did William say?”

“Well, he kind of,” she glances at him, “He kinda pushed it a bit.”

“And?” Louis’ voice is remarkably calm, even as he grips the steering wheel so hard he’s afraid he’s going to dent it permanently.

“Well,” Darcy’s voice trails off, “I got him off of me with a well-placed knee to the groin and he got really mad, and opened the door and basically shoved me out of the car and left me there.”

“What? He put his hands on you?” Louis can’t quite believe it and is almost incoherent in his rage.

“He tried,” Darcy says fiercely, “And I made him stop. I wasn’t helpless, Daddy.”

Louis glances at her, and that spark is back in her eyes. Good.

“So,” he takes a deep breath, “All that karate paid off, huh?”

She stares at him and then snickers. “Every penny, Dad. Anyway. He’s still got my coat and my purse, and I want them back.” She looks stubborn, and Louis sighs. She may not be his biological child, but she's his in every way that matters, and somehow his own stubbornness and refusal to _ever_ back down from a fight have come through to her in spades, instead of Harry’s general sweetness and geniality and, honestly, Louis couldn’t be prouder.

Without asking, he changes course and turns down Main Street, which will take them over to William’s neighborhood.

When they pull up in front of the house, the lights are on, the car is in the driveway, and Louis wonders what’s going on in WIlliam’s mind as he sees the living room curtains shift. He parks, and watches as Darcy takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and gets out of the car. As he follows her, it hits him, she doesn’t need him to fight all her battles any more. She’s not grown yet, but she’s ready for this.

He follows her up the walkway, and just as she gets to the door, she stops and turns, and looks at him for a long, silent moment, her blue eyes gleaming in the porch light. And then she just nods, gives him a small, secret smile, so like Harry’s, and murmurs, “Thanks for coming to get me, Daddy,” and turns to ring the doorbell.

_Ooh, everything I need I get from you_ _  
_ _Ooh, giving back is all I want to do_

Louis settles into the seat Harry has saved for him. The high school auditorium is sweltering, the heat generated from the families of the 120 fifth-graders about to take the stage for their end-of-the-year band concert is immense, and Louis can see Harry’s curls are wilting. They grin at each other and then Harry sighs.

“I can’t believe it, fifth grade is almost over. She’s going to the middle school, Lou.”

Louis waves to Ellen’s mom, who he knows from PTA and sighs. “When did we get old enough to have an almos-twelve year old?”

“It’s all coming,” Harry says gloomily. “Puberty. Pimples. Menstruation. Boys, Lou.”

Louis shakes his head in sympathy. “I know, man. It was bad enough living it, but to watch your kid go through it? Agony.”

They both snicker a bit and then settle down as the lights in the auditorium dim and the music teacher, Mrs. Archer, takes the stage. She waxes rhapsodical about how _special_ their children are, how _lovely_ this year has been, how _excited_ they are to share their music, and then turns to the children, all sitting proudly under the bright lights. Even at eleven, they’re searching for their parents in the audience, some waving enthusiastically, others too cool to do so but still looking for familiar faces. They’re gap-toothed, and the size difference between the boys and the girls has Louis grinning. Louis spots Darcy, wedged in with fifteen other trumpet players, grinning as she whispers something to Alex, her standmate and best friend of four years, and his heart swells as she lifts the trumpet to her lips.

And then they begin.

Louis winces at the cacophony of sound, somewhat recognizable as Ode to Joy, flows out over the auditorium. He glances over at Harry, who is beaming proudly as he watches their daughter, and Louis feels his heart lift even more. The concert continues as the band makes its way through a variety of pieces with more enthusiasm than skill, but these kids have only been playing for six months and they’re doing great, Louis reminds himself, all the while unable to take his eyes off his daughter.

The band finishes with a Star Wars medley, and as Mrs. Archer enthusiastically waves them to a stop, one of the trombones gives a very loud _blatt_ into the silence. Louis feels rather than sees Harry snort beside him and nudges him without turning.

“Don’t make me laugh,” he hisses, even as he joins in the thunderous applause.

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry snickers as he claps. “It was, wow. That was really something.” They exchange a quick glance and Louis suddenly can’t help himself. He leans in to press a quick kiss to his husband’s lips.

Harry’s smile shifts from amused to gentle, almost questioning. “What was that for?”

“Just,” Louis turns back to find Darcy standing with the rest of the band. “You know. There’s no one else I’d rather do this with.”

“What,” Harry says as the lights come up and they stand up, starting to gather their things. “Fifth grade band concerts?” He is still watching Darcy and then Louis hears him murmur quietly, “Oh God, look at her, Lou.”

Darcy is making her way through the crowd and Louis sees it too. She’s shot up in the last few months, although she's never going to be tall, and her body is beginning to change. She’s not the long-limbed little girl anymore. He sees the look on her face as she glances over at Colby, a boy Louis knows she thinks is cute. He watches as she flashes a grin that leaves Colby a bit stunned. In her smile, suddenly Louis can see the woman she’s going to become and his heart breaks just a little.

And then Darcy is there in front of them, accepting the flowers that Harry brought, because _of course_ he brought their daughter flowers for her fifth grade band concert, and she’s laughing as Harry folds her into his embrace, saying something about how they should probably just get McDonald’s for dinner. Louis smiles too, embracing the bittersweet ache of another milestone achieved, and wraps his arms around his two favorite people.

“All of it,” he whispers into Harry’s shoulder, knowing Harry isn’t listening and knowing it doesn’t matter. “You’re the only one I could do all of this with.” He pulls back, rubs Darcy’s back for a quick second and then leans down to pick up her trumpet.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here. I want McDonald’s.”

_I want to build you a boat_  
_One as strong as you are free_  
_So any time you think that your heart is gonna sink_  
_You know it won't_ _  
I want to build you a boat_

Harry checks her bag one last time. A snack, a lunch, crayons, an extra outfit _just in case, sweetheart. I know you’re a big girl and know how to use the potty._ All the things she’s going to need, carefully tucked into the shiny new backpack. He smiles, thinking about picking it out.

“That one, Papa, with the dragon!” Darcy had been too excited to stand still as they’d looked at the back-to-school supplies. She’d been dancing excitedly, spinning around in the crowded aisle at Target, much to the amusement of the other parents. “I need a dragon for kindergarten, Papa! Don’t you think?”

Parents of older kids, more experienced than Harry, had smiled knowingly as he’d solemnly placed the backpack into the shopping cart.

“Enjoy it while that enthusiasm lasts,” one frazzled-looking mom had muttered as she’d squeezed by them, calling after her son, “For the last time, I am not buying you _leather pants,_ Tommy, you’re _thirteen.”_

But now, the day is here. They’re putting Darcy on the big, yellow school bus for the first time and Harry doesn’t quite know how to feel. Darcy is more than ready and she’s the kind of kid who was born for school, much like Harry had been, to Louis’ disgruntlement. In a way, Harry is ready too. At the very least, he’s ready for no more daycare payments. He’s carefully entered the schedule into his calendar, and he and Louis have figured out a way to manage all the vacation days and half days and, all of a sudden, Harry feels almost like a real adult, having to worry about these things.

Louis comes down with Darcy bouncing after him.

“Got your teeth brushed?” Harry says, and then notices what she’s wearing. He opens his mouth to say something but Louis fixes him with a stern glance.

“She picked out a special outfit for today, Papa,” he says pointedly and Harry sighs.

“Look, Papa,” Darcy says proudly as she stands in front of him, “I chose this special for today.” She’s wearing polka dot stretch pants that have blue, pink and purple dots scattered across a background of bright green, and a polka dot shirt in an entirely different (and clashing, Harry notes) shade of green, which is covered in black and white dots. “They match! Dots and dots!”

Harry takes a deep breath, then lets go just a bit. She is five, after all. She gets a say. “You look amazing,” he says and grins over her fuzzy head at Louis. “She looks great.”

Louis smiles back. “Good for you, love,” he says quietly as Darcy grabs her backpack and enthusiastically slings it over her shoulders. “That didn’t hurt so much now, did it?”

Harry pulls him into a hug. “Not as much as it’s going to hurt putting her on the bus.”

They make their way outside and up the driveway to where the bus will be coming soon to pick Darcy up and bear her away to her new adventure. Harry slips his hand into Louis’, whose fingers tighten around his own.

The next few minutes pass in a flurry of making sure Darcy knows what the afternoon plan is (the bus is going to drop her at the store, thank goodness for small towns, Harry thinks), and taking all the pictures they can to send to grandparents, aunts and uncles, and of course, for Facebook. And then Harry hears it, the distinctive pitch of the engine of the bus making it’s way up the hill to turn onto their little side street.

Darcy’s eyes get wide, and suddenly she throws her arms around Harry and hugs him tight, burying her face in his belly.

“What if I hate it, Papa?” she mumbles and Harry’s heart breaks just a little bit. He scoops her up and she winds her arms around his neck as he takes a deep breath and tries to figure out what to say.

“It’s okay to be scared, love,” he says finally, watching the bus make it’s way down the street, stopping to pick up Michael at his house. “It’s a new thing and new things can be scary, but remember, you met Mrs. Birch and you really liked her.’

“Birch like the tree,” Darcy mumbles into his neck.

“And remember that you’ve got your own cubby, and a cushion to sit on, and you’ll have snack and lunch and recess. I promise you, baby, I bet lots of other kids are scared too, and all the teachers know that. Mrs. Birch wants you to have an amazing time and I think you’re going to love it. I really do.”

Darcy leans back, her face uncharacteristically solemn. “But who’s going to take care of Daddy while I’m at school?”

Beside him, Louis snorts just a bit and Harry grins as he presses a kiss to his daughter’s cheek.

“I’ll take care of Daddy, okay? Now, here’s the bus, and you remember Kathy-the-bus-driver, yeah?”

Kathy pulls to a stop and opens the door. “Darcy, sweetheart!” She calls down as Darcy stares up at the opening. “I’ve got the perfect seat for you, honey, right up front next to Alex. What do you say, are you ready?”

Darcy turns and looks at her fathers and then grins her glorious gap-toothed grin. “‘I’m ready.”

She climbs onto the bus and Louis takes a few more pictures. As the door starts to close, Harry hears Darcy say confidently to Kathy, “My papa says I am going to love Kindergarten,” and the last thing Harry hears as the door closes and the bus pulls away is Kathy saying back,

“I know you will, sweetheart.”

They stand together, Harry with his arm around Louis’ shoulders, watching the bus trundle down the street, and then it’s turning the corner and is lost to sight, and it hits Harry that this is it, the real beginning of watching his daughter make her way out into the world, until one day, she won’t be coming home except to visit. He swallows the lump in his throat, and takes a deep breath as Louis gives him a squeeze.

“You’re so good at that, you know?” Louis asks as they turn and make their way back to the house, which suddenly feels too quiet, too large.

Harry frowns. “At what?”

“At reassuring her. Helping her feel safe enough to go off on the bus.” Louis pauses and then pulls Harry into a lingering kiss. “I can’t believe she’s off to school.” He shakes his head, unknowingly echoing Harry’s thoughts. “And it’s just the beginning, you know? Anyway, I can’t imagine doing this with anyone but you, Harry.”

Harry smiles, and grabs Louis’ hand, tugging him towards the house. “Same, you big sap. Now c’mon, I have to leave in an hour and I promised Darcy I’d...take care of you.”

Louis bursts out laughing and, as they head towards the house, Harry thinks there might be one advantage at least to having a kid in school.

_Ooh, everything I need I get from you_ _  
_ _Ooh, giving back is all I want to do_

Harry steps out from Darcy’s room, shutting the door gently behind him. It’s 4 am, and they’ve been back from the hospital for about half an hour.

“I think she’s finally asleep.”

Louis nods, looking as exhausted as Harry feels, as they make their way into their bedroom, and both flop down onto the bed. Darcy’s been running a fever for three days now, and had landed them in the ER earlier when she’d taken a turn for the worse and started struggling to breathe. Harry is not sure he’s ever been that scared in his life, driving through the empty streets of their small town to the local hospital, debating with Louis if they should just take her up to Burlington to the big teaching hospital there, and ultimately deciding just to get her to the closest care. They’d come home with a diagnosis of pneumonia and a z-pack and Harry is praying that she’ll be feeling better soon.

He reflects, not for the first time, that parenting would be so much easier if it came with some sort of manual. If there were some sort of hotline where he could call a _genuine_ grown-up, instead of having to rely on himself and his husband, the imposters that he and Louis both agree that they are. After three years of this, he doesn’t generally feel like quite such an amateur, but then something like this hits, and he’s reminded again of how fragile life really is and how vulnerable it is to love someone the way he loves Darcy.

Then he looks over to where Louis is lying flat on his back, his eyes closed, breaths beginning to lengthen and slow even as his face goes lax in sleep, and he feels his heart swell. He rolls over, and presses a kiss to Louis’ cheek, who mumbles something that sounds like “don’t forget the hippos,” making Harry laugh a bit.

_It’s only you,_ he thinks to himself, as he reaches across his sleeping partner, the person he’d pledged to love for better and for worse, in sickness and health, for as long as they both lived. _There’s no one else I’d rather do this with than you._ He turns off the light, and curls up next to Louis, finally letting his exhausted eyes close.

_Ooh, everything I need I get from you_ _  
_ _Ooh, giving back is all I want to do_

Louis reaches over and takes their screaming daughter from his frazzled husband, rocking her gently as Harry stomps out of the room. He’s been a parent for 11 weeks and 4 days and he can honestly say that nothing in the world has ever challenged him, or rewarded him, the way this has.

“They say it gets better at three months, babe,” he calls out to Harry, who just gives an inarticulate moan as he goes into their bedroom and, Louis imagines, collapses onto the bed.

Darcy is screeching and Louis stares down at her squinched up, red and angry face, and wants to cry, just a little. He thought he’d known what he was getting into when they’d decided to have a baby. He’s got younger siblings, after all. Unlike Harry, who’s the baby of his family, Louis is experienced. He’s changed diapers. A little barf doesn’t phase him. He’s _great_ with kids, thank you very much, and he somehow thought that would prepare him for parenting, but now he’s beginning to understand how very, very wrong he was.

_Nothing can prepare you_ , he thinks as he shifts her around so she’s draped over his shoulder. He begins swaying and pacing around the small room that they’d so lovingly decorated for her before she was born and wonders how much of his own childhood he’s repressed, because he doesn’t remember the bone-deep exhaustion, the fog that comes from never getting more than two hours of uninterrupted sleep, the terror of responsibility for this small fragile life, the flush of happiness the first time she’d smiled at them. _Of course_ , he thinks, _I wasn’t the one getting up with the babies._ He resolves to send his mother flowers in the morning. If he survives the night, that is.

He shifts and moves, bounces her gently as he rubs her back, and begins to sing, and amazingly, she starts to settle. _Who are you going to become?_ he wonders, as he slows his pacing. _I cannot wait to see, baby._ He feels her small body relax, becoming heavy and limp as her cries fade, and as he sways with her, he marvels at how much he loves her, how deep this connection is already. He rocks her gently and she’s finally quiet, resting on his shoulder, as he sings.

_I want to write you a song_  
_One to make your heart remember me_  
_So any time I'm gone_  
_You can listen to my voice and sing along_  
_I want to write you a song_ _  
I want to write you a song_

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come say hi on Tumblr! If you enjoyed this, the rest of my stuff can be found here!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and I would love it if you left a kudos or a comment, they all make my day brighter and inspire me to write more!


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